CARRIAGES MAY BE ORDERED FOR 9.30 PM
My cabin is opposite Dick and Hedley's, and the latter has great jokes about my treatment of my small lady companion! He says she is frightened to death of me, and is afraid to come into the cabin until I am safe in my berth! My love for the sea has received a severe check, though I think no other sea can be as bad and uninteresting as this tremendous Atlantic! I have not an idea where you are, but hope it is at Margaret's, and I shall send this there, as the best chance of your receiving it soon. I shall post this at Queenstown, when Dick will also telegraph to Augusta at Ampton, and he has asked her to let you know of our safety a s far as that. The Americans have been singing in choruses while I have been writing, practising for a concert.
Tuesday, 18th, eight o'clock p.m.—I hear we shall get to Queenstown to-morrow morning, about ten o'clock. I have a game of whist coming on, and there is to be an American concert, "Star Spangled Banner," and all. Miss Puleston, who I have chaperoned in the Oregon from New York, is to be left at Queenstown.
Wednesday, 19th, Queenstown.—The coast has been so pretty, and, of course, quite smooth, compared to what we have been accustomed to of late. I got up early, and saw all the sacks of letters, six hundred, from all parts of the world, carried on men's backs to the tugs on either side of the Oregon, and we parted with Miss Puleston and some others, and now I must stop as this is going to be posted. We expect to be at Liverpool some time to-night, and shall leave at once for Ampton, where I look forward to seeing so many of my dear ones. Dick and I agree that our happiest days have been the day we reached Quebec, and the day we left New York, both glorious in weather and scenery!
Given by Mr. AUGUSTUS CHUR, American, of New York, of German descent, November 18th, 1884, on "Oregon"
My country, 'tis of thee,
Sweet land of liberty,
Of thee I sing,
Land where my Fathers died.
Land of the Pilgrims' pride,
From every mountain side
Let Freedom ring.
My native country thee,
Land of the noble free,
Thy name I love,
I love thy rocks and rills,
Thy woods and templed hills,
My heart with rapture thrills
Like that above
Our Father, GOD, to Thee,
Author of Liberty,
Thy name we sing.
Long may our land be bright
With Freedom's holy light,
Protect us by Thy might
Great God our King
November 19th.—I posted my letter to you at Queenstown. We had a very pleasant day on deck, and while playing some innocent whist in the evening, Mr. Burns announced, "We have arrived at Liverpool!" It seemed so wonderful! We remained at anchor after a very slow, careful steaming up the river, and it was pretty to watch the lights and the dim outlines as we passed by.
20th.—After a tremendous bustle at Custom House, where our boxes were all opened, but mine only just unfastened, Dick and I started in the train across country for Suffolk. We wished a hearty good-bye to our fellow-passengers. It was sad to see poor Mrs. Bogle standing with her seven children among her great deal boxes, screwed down (for she had only time on leaving Barbadoes to pack hurriedly), and then to look at the Custom House officials opening them all—thanks to the dynamite people, who make this precaution necessary. I must confess I thoroughly enjoyed our quiet smooth journey. All the time we had a carriage to ourselves (Hedley remained at Liverpool to visit the Woods at Birkenhead), and we only changed twice, having our luncheon comfortably in a basket en route, and reached Ingham about seven o'clock, where the carriage was waiting, and found dear Edward, Lisa, Augusta, and Rosa Paley at Ampton; Clara and Jack had been staying out, but returned after dinner when they heard of our arrival. It was so delightful to be among so many dear ones again, and oh! the luxury of a large comfortable bed, and how thoroughly I enjoyed it, and the quiet and beauty of Ampton altogether! I hear you are expected in London to-morrow. I never lost anything during my whole journey, excepting two things, which were left behind in our railway car at Winnipeg, owing to that horrid cook hiding them; but on this journey from Liverpool, my emerald ring, set with diamonds, must have slipped off my finger, and could not be found, though I telegraphed, &c., at once; this is an unpleasant episode.